


asked for a dream or two

by carissima



Series: wish universe [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Wish Fulfillment, Wishes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-19 00:59:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14863658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carissima/pseuds/carissima
Summary: “Is it like a Swedish thing?” Zach asks. He’s a little drunk. Maybe a lot drunk actually. He squints at Willy, who’s lounging against the bar, looking like a fucking model.Zach’s definitely drunk.





	asked for a dream or two

**Author's Note:**

> this is what happens when you wonder why there are so many hot swedes in the nhl
> 
> thanks to bee for the beta, you’re the best!

Wish magic is as old as time, or so they’re taught in school. Zach remembers being a kid, listening in wonder as the teacher explained that while wishes are miraculous and can change the course of a person’s life, every wish comes with a warning, a set of rules that prevent wishers from causing damage to themselves and others. For every wish has an opposite effect, an unwanted, unpredictable byproduct of the wish.

Wishes can only be granted at key moments in a person’s life. Parents can bestow one wish on their child at their birth; a wish for their future. Zach’s parents had wished intelligence on all their boys, and each of them had received their wish to varying degrees for no two wishes are ever fulfilled the same. Everyone gets a wish when they reach adulthood, according to their culture or the law of their land.

And hockey players are granted a wish when they sign their first professional contract.

There are rules about NHL wishes. The wisher cannot;

  1. Wish for more wishes
  2. Wish harm unto others
  3. Wish for a Cup
  4. Wish for any awards, actually



And, as with all wishes, the wish has to be personal to the wisher. No one can wish on behalf of another person, no matter what. Anyone who tries, loses their wish forever.

There are stories of those who tried to wish around the rules. Zach shudders when he hears them.

When Zach finally signed his first contract, he wished to play with the best players in the world. Zach was smart, thanks to his parents. He knew his limitations as a player, but hockey teams are made up of all kinds of talents and skills. Zach wanted to play with the best.

And now he plays with Marleau, Matthews, Marner and Nylander.

When he was younger though, Zach used to wonder why all hockey players didn’t wish for good health with the prevalence of career-ending injuries in the game. He still wonders, sometimes, when someone loses months of their playing career to a concussion or corrective surgery. Then again, Zach didn’t wish for health himself, so he gets it. The price to pay might be too much.

Wishes are kept secret and it’s considered rude to ask someone what they wished for. However, while no one ever talks about their wishes, it’s obvious what some players have wished for.  Gretzky wished to be the best player to ever play the game, but it came with a price, of course. His post-playing career has been hounded with failure one way or another, and that’s the downside of wishes. It’s why most people wish for something small, something achievable.

But like Gretzky, there are those who go big and are willing to pay the price. Crosby wished to be a successful player, hoping to beat the Gretzky Curse. But concussions will probably take Sid out of the game years before he’s ready to retire. They’ve already taken so much time from his career. And for all his success on the ice, there are players who grudgingly admit that he’s the best, but in the same breath point out that he’s a cheat, too eager to fall down and too ready to complain to the referees.

No one knows yet what McDavid or Matts asked for, but Zach supposes it will become clear eventually. It always does with the greats.

Zach’s played with a lot of guys in the league by the time he signs with the Leafs, makes his own wish and gets to play his first season in the NHL. Some of the players personal and professional wishes are whispered about across the league, fodder for gossiping locker rooms and beat reporters alike. Mitch, the rumor mill suggests, wished to be a Leaf when he reached adulthood. Zach wouldn’t be surprised if Larks made the same wish about the Red Wings. It’s common knowledge that Willy wished for his good looks and Oshie wished to be the best shootout player in the modern game. Benn wished to prove everyone who doubted him wrong, Ovechkin wished for glory, Toews wished for a legacy and the Sedins wished to play together for their entire NHL careers.

Or so the stories go.

No one ever asks. Wish magic is special and private. Wishes aren’t for public consumption. Wishes are secret.

So when the article appears on Deadspin, outing Freddie’s wish, no one knows what the fuck to say in the locker room as they arrive for morning skate. Zach had read the article in disbelief, feeling violated himself as he scanned the words and felt a little sick. He can’t imagine his wish being out there in the world, written somewhere anyone can find it.

A quick glance around the room tells Zach two things; firstly that everyone’s read it, or at least knows about it. And secondly, no one can look at Freddie. Everyone’s keeping their gaze firmly fixed on their own stall as they dress in almost silence.

Zach can’t even blame his teammates. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’d say to Freddie either. Freddie’s wish is right there on the internet for everyone and anyone to read. It’s intrusive and horrifying to think that someone would print it so boldly, so unapologetically. It’s offensive. It’s one of the worst things Zach could imagine happening to him.

And yet Freddie is here, shouldering the fallout, getting ready to play even though everyone knows something so personal about him. They know his innermost secret. He’s a fucking rock, Zach thinks, his heart clenching as he notes the tightness around Freddie’s eyes or the way he flinches whenever anyone moves a little too close to him.

Eventually, thankfully, the locker room slowly empties as the team heads to the ice. Zach’s been dawdling too much worrying about Freddie, and suddenly it’s just him, Matts and Freddie left. Zach hauls himself up and hurries out the door as quickly as he can manage on his skates.

He tries not to notice Matts dropping his hand onto Freddie’s shoulder, their heads bent together as Matts says something too quietly for Zach to hear.

Anyway. It’s personal.

At least, it is until practice comes to an end and Mitch invites the media over. Halfway through his answer on how the team manages to deal with outside pressure, he drops a bombshell, spoken so mildly and casually that no one seems to grasp what they’ve just heard.

“Wait,” Kristin says, in the ensuing silence that surrounds them. “Your parents wished for you to be happy?”

Mitch laughs and scrubs his hand through his hair, clearly a little embarrassed. “Yeah,” he says easily, like revealing one of your wishes is an everyday occurance. “They’re probably wondering right now why they didn’t wish for intelligence or whatever, but I’m you know, pretty _happy_ about it.”

Kristin seems to be the only one who appreciates the joke.

“You seem pretty open about your wish,” she says carefully, watching Mitch to see if she oversteps his boundaries, wherever the fuck they’re drawn right now. This is uncharted territory and Zach, like the rest of the team, is watching as avidly as the rest of the media in the room. This is history being made, or whatever. “It’s an unusual move to talk about it so readily.”

Mitch shrugs and no one misses the quick glance he shoots to Freddie, who stares back, stony-faced, the tension in his broad shoulders clear for them all to see. “We’re a team,” he says firmly, and he turns just a little so it looks like he’s speaking directly to Freddie, even though he’s looking at Kristin when he talks. “Someone took that away from one of us today. And that sucks, you know? But we’re a team. Now you can write about both of us. My man Freddie hates being the center of attention, you know? Me, I don’t mind so much.”

Everyone’s just kind of frozen in a weird tableau as Mitch puts his hands behind his back and almost dares someone to ask him another question. A movement to Zach’s right makes him look over and it’s Freddie, carefully placing his mask down in his stall.

“I wished to do something memorable,” Freddie says in his quiet way, turning to face the room. He doesn’t have to raise his voice for everyone to hear him. They all know what he wished for already, of course, but Freddie looks at Mitch and he smiles, just a little. A quirk of the lips, like he’s finding something about this whole situation funny. “Now you can directly quote me when you write about it.”

One of the Leafs PR people jumps in and ends the questions, a frantic look of panic on her face as the locker room slowly empties until it’s just the players and the staff. Mitch is still looking defiant, like he’s waiting to get pulled out and ripped a new one for his answers, but it’s anticlimactic. Babs tells them to get their rest before the game and reminds Gards that he needs to see the trainers about his calf injury and that’s it.

“Fucking hell,” Matts swears softly next to him and Zach couldn’t agree more. He lifts his hand, nudges it against Auston’s in agreement. Fucking hell.

*

It kind of opens the floodgates for the team, after Mitch’s confession. When they’re at the bar that night, post-win and a few drinks in, Mo tells them that his wish was to make it to the show. Then Patty confesses next, his eyes bright with humor, that he wished for gold. “I’ve got two gold medals at home,” he says, rolling his eyes at himself. “That’s what I wished for at 18 when I was young and stupid.” His smile turns softer though as he taps his hand against the beer bottle he’s holding, his gold wedding band making a small clink with each tap. “Wishes never really turn out the way you think they will though, boys. Take it from an old man.”

The boys spend the rest of the night chirping Patty but his words stay with Zach as they head back to the hotel. He’s actually glad they’re in San Jose, since it makes it easier to avoid whatever the fallout of today has been. Most of the guys have been avoiding social media all day but Zach’s seen Matts and Willy glued to their phones at times, so he supposes they know whatever’s being said.

Zach’s not sure he wants to know.

“Come to our room?” Mitch murmurs as they walk into the lobby. He looks fine, considering, but Zach nods anyway, his protective instincts kicking in. He sees Matts whispering to Willy, so he’s not surprised when it ends up being the four of them, Matts and Mitchy on their own beds, Willy curled up by Mitch’s feet and Zach taking the chair.

“Today has been a shitshow,” Mitch says and exhales loudly. He shakes his head and looks at Auston. “How’s Fred?”

“Feeling pretty shitty,” Matts says. “And wondering who told his secret.” He throws a pillow at Mitch, who catches it with a grin and pops it behind his head. “Thinks you’re the fucking best thing since hockey though.”

“You’re so jealous,” Mitch says, his eyes wide in delight. “Don’t hate the player, bro.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Auston says flatly. “And I’m not jealous.”

“You so are,” Mitch crows. “I’m Freddie’s favorite now and you’re a giant ball of seething jealousy.”

Zach catches Willy’s eye roll and he grins because this feels normal, finally, after the day they’ve had. “Guys, you can argue about who Freddie loves more later. But he’s alright, yeah?”

Mitch and Auston sober up almost immediately.

“He’s dealing,” Auston says, glancing at Mitch. “What about you, Mitchy?”

“I’m good,” Mitch tells them, his mouth twisted into some semblance of a smile. “My mom’s pretty upset though.”

Zach winces. His parents would probably hit the roof if his wishes became public.

“It was pretty cool of Mo and Patty to tell us their wishes,” Willy says. He’s leaning forward, his elbows on his knees and of the four of them, he looks the most at ease. Zach envies it, a little. Wonders if it has anything to do with his wish being common knowledge already.

Looking at Willy, he makes a decision. “I uh,” Zach clears his throat and tips his head back to stare at the ceiling. “When I turned 18, I wished for personal and professional fulfilment.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“For hockey, right?” Mitch asks slowly.

Zach’s lips twitch and he lowers his head. “No,” he says simply and watches his teammates eyes widen in surprise. “I figured hard work would either pay off for hockey or it wouldn’t. I just wanted to do something I loved, you know? And I loved hockey, but I would have been okay if I never made it if I had something else that I loved just as much.”

Auston looks confused, like he can’t imagine anyone being happy if they’re not playing in the NHL. It’s endearing.

“Your books,” Willy says. “The publishing deal. That’s your wish.”

Zach sends him a pleased smile. “I guess,” he says. “I don’t know whether the wish worked for hockey or publishing my books, but either way it came true.”

“Thanks for telling us, bro,” Mitch says seriously. “Welcome to the club.”

Zach wants to grin at him but he can see Auston behind him, looking conflicted. “Hey,” Zach says to him. “You don’t have to tell anyone what you wished for, Matts. It’s a big fucking deal.”

Willy dives over onto Auston’s bed and tackle hugs him. “We can keep our secrets, hey bro?”

Auston rolls his eyes, one hand snaking around Willy to stop him from tumbling right off the bed. “Sure, bro,” he says dryly.

“They’re just jealous they’re not in our club,” Mitch tells Zach in a half-whisper.

Zach finally gives in and grins. His secret is out there and he feels a little weird and uncomfortable about it, but the way Mitch shifts over on his bed to make room for Zach to perch next to him, his arm slung around Zach’s shoulders, makes Zach feel like maybe it’s a good thing anyway.

Like Mitch said, they’re a team.

*

There’s no sudden outpouring of wish reveals from the rest of the league, although Seguin tells the media that his mom wished for Tyler to never feel alone, Malkin jokes that perhaps he should have wished for a gift for languages instead of his actual wish and Chara says that he wished to play hockey forever.

No one’s quite sure if he was being serious or not and no one’s been brave enough to ask yet.

*

“Is it like a Swedish thing?” Zach asks. He’s a little drunk. Maybe a lot drunk actually. He squints at Willy, who’s lounging against the bar, looking like a fucking model.

Zach’s definitely drunk.

“You all have a pact or something, right? You’re all so pretty,” Zach says. They just lost to the Blue Jackets at the ACC and he’s feeling a little loose. He might be slurring his words a little. It’s totally Brownie’s fault for that last round of shots. “You and Wennberg and Karlsson. Lundqvist, right? Landeskog.”

“Ekman-Larsson,” Mitch interjects helpfully.

“Yes!” Zach waves his hands around before one of them settles on Mitch’s back.

“The other Karlsson,” Mitch adds. “Oduya’s Swedish, right? Burakovsky. Klefbom.”

“Lindholm,” Zach says with a sigh. “All so beautiful. You wish for it, right?”

Willy stares at him for a long moment and Zach feels the alcohol hit him all at once. He’s got one hand still on Mitch and he reaches for the bar to steady himself.

“Sure,” Willy says flatly. “That’s what we do, all right. We turn 18 and ask to be beautiful.”

Zach nods but his head feels heavy and Mitch is shaking his head at him. “What?” Zach asks him.

“You’re an idiot and I’m taking you home,” Mitch says.

“Okay,” Zach says agreeably. He should probably leave before he says something dumb anyway, he’s had way too much to drink and he’s got too many thoughts about attractive Swedish hockey players. “Hey Willy, I’ll see you-” Zach pauses because Willy isn’t where Zach left him. Frowning, Zach peers a little closer but Willy’s definitely not there. “He left.”

“Bro,” Mitch says with a sigh and throws Zach’s arm around his own shoulder to guide them towards the exit. “You fucked up.”

Zach stumbles against him. “Fuck,” he curses and tries really hard to concentrate on not falling flat on his ass.

*

Zach wakes up with a hangover and no memory of anything from last night after Brownie started handing out loser shots. They don’t have a game until tomorrow so he gives himself a maintenance day and spends it on his couch.

It takes him a few days to realize that Willy’s pissed at him.

He’s kind of annoyed with himself for how long it takes him to notice.

After he’s watched Willy walk out of the locker room again without so much as a glance in his direction, Zach slumps back in his stall and sighs.

“What’s up, bro?” Mitch’s stall is a few down from his but he’s looking at Zach with raised eyebrows and a vague look of concern, so Zach slides over towards him and tilts his head toward Willy’s empty stall.

“I think Willy’s avoiding me,” he says in a low voice. No one else is paying any attention to them but Zach doesn’t want to take the risk of being overheard. Not until he at least knows what’s up with Willy.

“No shit,” Mitch says, which has Zach blinking at him in surprise. Mitch frowns and shoves the rest of his stuff in his bag and stands up, grabbing Zach and tugging him out the door and practically marching him towards their cars.

“Uh, didn’t you drive Auston in?” Zach asks, looking back over his shoulder.

“He’ll catch up,” Mitch dismisses. He looks around furtively and stops dead in the middle of the hallway and huffs. “You don’t remember.”

“Remember what?” Zach asks, confused.

“San Jose,” Mitch says. “You basically called Willy shallow as fuck, dude. Not to mention every other beautiful Swede in the league, but mostly Willy.”

“I did?”

“Yeah,” Mitch says slowly and Zach can feel the judgement, thanks. “Wennberg and Karlsson, remember?”

And shit, Zach does. In his defence, “Well, they are,” he mutters, shoving his hands in his pockets and wincing because he totally fucked up.

Mitch just stares back at him, all 5’10 of him judging Zach and fuck. “I’m gonna apologize,” Zach insists because he hates the thought of Willy feeling shit because of Zach. Willy should be like Mitch and happy all the time.

“Maybe after you’ve apologized, you should tell him that he’s prettier than Wenny and Karlsson,” Mitch says, smiling innocently when Zach throws him a sharp look. “What? He’s not shallow but he’s as vain as Matts. They need an ego boost now and again.”

“Oh?” Auston says from behind them, making Mitch jump and look momentarily terrified. Zach starts laughing and Mitch splutters a little before Auston slings his arm around Mitch’s shoulders and guides him towards his car. “Let’s hear it then. Give me an ego boost.”

“You’re the prettiest Arizonian on the team, bud,” Mitch says immediately, wrapping his own arm around Auston’s waist. “Like, by far. Not even a contest, dude.”

Zach’s still grinning at them when he climbs into his own car, but it quickly fades when he pulls out his phone and opens his message thread from Willy. There’s been nothing for the last few days and Zach feels shitty all over again.

He starts the car and heads to Willy’s place.

*

Willy opens the door, which Zach’s pretty grateful for, and lets his body relax against the doorframe, his arm still on the door and blocking Zach’s entrance, which Zach is pretty sad about.

“I don’t think you’re shallow,” he says bluntly, because Willy needs to know that. “For your wish.”

Zach watches Willy stand up straight, his eyes narrowing on Zach’s and he gets the very real feeling that he’s fucked up again.

“Of course you still think I wished for good looks or to be beautiful or whatever,” Willy mutters and he slams the door shut on Zach’s face.

Zach’s left blinking at Willy’s front door in surprise. “But that’s what everyone says you wished for,” he murmurs to himself.

Obviously, everyone got it really, really wrong.

*

Zach spends the next few days trying to get Willy to talk to him, but all he gets is hockey talk in return, or absolute silence.

“He still won’t talk to me,” he whines to Mitch one night. He’s in Mitch and Auston’s hotel room but Auston’s not there so it’s just the two of them. “It’s been two weeks, Mitchy.”

“Impressive,” Mitch says, shrugging when Zach shoots him a wounded look. “What? It’s Willy. He’s like, genetically incapable of holding a grudge.”

“Well, he’s not talking to me and it sucks,” Zach grumbles. “And I don’t know how to fix it.”

Mitch nudges his knee against Zach’s. “It’s kinda funny though,” he says, and Zach sits upright, ready to disagree because this is definitely Not Funny when Mitch holds up a hand. “Like, you wished for professional success or whatever and you suck so bad at personal relationships.”

“What?” Zach’s offended. “I don’t suck at personal relationships. What the hell, Mitchy?”

“Well, you’ve completely missed the whole point of why Willy’s mad at you,” Mitch says. “He’s not even mad, dumb dumb. He’s upset because you hurt him.” He gives Zach a little shove. “Go say sorry, bro.”

Zach gets to his feet and rubs his hand over his face. “I really fucked up.”

“Nah,” Mitch offers him a wide grin. “Willy’s pretty forgiving. I think you’ve got a shot at redemption or whatever. I think he’s in his room. Send Matts back will ya?”

Zach nods and gives into the temptation to ruffle Mitchy’s hair before he leaves, Mitch’s grumbling following him out the door.

Willy’s room is four doors down and it’s not enough time for Zach to gather his thoughts and work out what he wants to say, so he’s relieved when it’s Auston who answers the door.

“Thank fuck,” Auston says. He disappears behind the door for a second and reappears with his phone in hand. “You broke it, you fix it.”

Zach gives him a little shove as Auston moves past him. “Mitch asked me to send you back.”

Auston flips him off and retreats into his room, leaving Zach staring at the open door to Willy’s room.

“Uh, hey?” he pushes the door back and steps inside. Willy’s lying on his bed, tapping away on his phone. He makes Zach wait for what feels like hours, although realistically Zach knows it’s probably only a minute or two.

When he looks up, it’s with mild disinterest and Zach’s chest hurts a little.

“Hey,” Willy says coolly.

Zach huffs out a long breath and tries a small smile. “I’m sorry,” he says, because he’s almost certain he can’t fuck up a simple apology. “I don’t think you’re shallow and I’m sorry I made an assumption about your wish.”

Willy sits up and he looks a little less frosty. He’s even dropped his phone onto the bed, giving Zach his full attention. “Don’t worry about it,” he says and even Zach’s not that clueless.

“Okay, you’re still mad,” Zach says, deflated.

Willy shoves a hand into his hair and flips it back, distracted. “I just thought-. Look, it doesn’t matter. Don’t worry about it.”

Zach frowns “Hey, I’m gonna worry about it. You’re my teammate. We’re friends. You need to tell me when I fuck up.”

Willy kicks his foot out, connecting with Zach’s thigh. “Shut up,” he says easily.  Zach feels the tension seep out of him, his grin widening helplessly. “You’re practically perfect.”

Zach flushes and laughs, flustered. “I’m not,” he protests. “Not even close.”

“Sure,” Willy says dryly and pats the bed next to him in invitation. Zach drops down, pressing a little closer than he usually would but fuck, he’s missed Willy. And it’s not like Willy minds. As far as Zach knows, Willy doesn’t understand the concept of personal space. “So like, my wish.”

Zach freezes for a moment before he puts his hand down on the bed behind Willy, close enough for him to lean into if he wants. “Yeah?” he nudges him softly.

Willy darts a glance towards him. “When I turned 18, I wished for love,” he says. He looks calm while he’s talking, but Zach’s totally stunned. Of all the things he thought Willy might ask for, love is right at the bottom. Like, Willy’s gonna fall in love, Zach knows it. Willy’s entirely lovable. The whole team adores him and when they go out, Willy’s never short of attention from guys or girls.

“My Mom and Dad, they’re like, unusual, you know?” Willy looks a little embarrassed and a lot defiant. “Lots of relationships don’t last in hockey. Or they shouldn’t, I guess,” he adds, a little quieter. “My parents are like, more in love now than when we were kids. Like, embarrassing levels. That’s what I want. I wanna embarrass all my future kids with how in love I am with my- my partner.”

Zach ignores the slight hesitation, even though he knows he’s going to obsess over it later. Right now he’s busy rearranging all his Willy-shaped thoughts and feelings and memories to fit this brand new, completely out of left field information. Like, Willy being a romantic is kind of blowing Zach’s mind right now.

But he’s already fucked up twice with Willy’s wish and he really, really doesn’t want to fuck up again.

“That’s,” Zach begins but the word gets stuck. He clears his throat and tries again. “That’s a good wish, buddy,” he says and aims his most reassuring smile at Willy.

Willy’s smile dims a little and Zach’s heart sinks.

He’s about to apologize, although this time he’s really fucking clueless about what he’s done wrong, when Willy flops back against his pillows. “You wanna watch a movie?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Zach nods quickly, more in relief than any real desire to watch anything. Unsure of what he’s messed up now, at least Willy’s still talking to him and there’s a very deliberate space next to Willy that Zach crawls into. He puts one hand behind his head and lets Willy choose the movie. He spends more time watching Willy than he does the movie, but Willy doesn’t seem to notice, his attention firmly on the screen.

*

Zach figures that Mitch is probably bored of his shit with Willy, while Brownie and the rest of the team are blissfully unaware that Zach is a disaster right now, which only leaves him one option. He picks up his phone and types out a text before he changes his mind.

_**Zach:** so willy’s still mad at me and i don’t know why, have you spoken to him? _

_**Auston:** yes _

_**Zach:** ???? _

_**Auston:** thought you were meant to be the smart one _

_**Zach:** mitch says i’m dumb at personal stuff _

_**Auston:** he’s right _

_**Auston:** don’t tell him i said that or he’ll never shut up _

_**Zach:** anyway, willy? _

_**Auston:** mitch suggested locking you two in a closet _

_**Zach:** ??? _

Zach gets a string of emojis from both Auston and Mitch - who must be with Auston - and none of them make any sense.

They’ve got two days off, which is a blessing at this point in the season, but it means that Zach can just be an actual adult and go see Willy and get this whole mess straightened out. Again. For the last time.

Hopefully.

He wastes some time making lunch and calling his mom before he heads for his car and drives the short distance to Willy’s place.

Willy doesn’t look surprised to see him.

“Matts warned me that you were probably gonna come over,” he says, but at least he lets Zach inside this time. “So what’s up?”

Zach doesn’t have the energy to beat around the bush anymore. “When you told me about your wish,” he starts, watching Willy carefully but Willy just looks back at him blankly. So Zach sighs and sucks it up. “I said the wrong thing. After. I’m not sure what I was meant to say, but can we just pretend that I said it instead of what I actually said?”

Willy considers him from his seat on the huge leather sectional that he insisted on buying when he moved in. “Zach,” he says and then he grins, wide and beautiful enough to make Zach feel a little wary. “You’re a fucking disaster at this.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” He pouts a little and ignores Willy’s smothered laugh. “I’m an actual adult, unlike half the team, and I have like, investments and plans and stuff. My life is in order. Why do I keep fucking this up?”

He doesn’t realize that Willy’s moved closer to him until he stops talking and Willy’s right up in his personal space, like usual.

Willy kisses him.

Like, Willy’s mouth is pressing against his and Willy’s hands are on Zach’s shoulders and he’s climbing into Zach’s lap which is pretty nice actually, so Zach puts his hands on Willy’s hips and pulls him a little closer and he kisses him back. He can feel his heart hammering in his chest, or maybe it’s Willy’s, who knows since they’re pressed so tightly together that he can’t really tell where Willy ends and he begins.

He clutches onto Willy’s hips a little harder and tugs again. There’s literally no way for Willy to get any closer but Zach suddenly wants him to be. Willy smells nice, like maybe he put cologne on before Zach arrived and he’s heavy in Zach’s lap, his muscular thighs clamped around Zach’s.

Willy’s tongue strokes into his mouth and Zach feels like he’s falling apart, suddenly desperate to taste and touch and devour. His hands move over Willy’s body, touching everywhere and everything, his hands too heavy, too needy. He wants skin, he wants more, and he grips the hem of Willy’s t-shirt and hauls it upwards, one of them whining when they pull apart, breathing heavy while Zach throws Willy’s shirt over the back of the sofa and tugs him back in for more. God, he wants so much more.

“More,” Willy pants into his mouth and Zach wants to laugh maybe because he’s right there with him. Zach’s shirt disappears and Willy pulls him in so hard that they tumble backwards off the sofa and onto the floor. It’s too hard against Zach’s back but he doesn’t care because Willy’s kissing him, his hands scratching against Zach’s scalp and he’s grinding down into Zach, both of them obviously hard and he’s still so, so desperate. Willy’s skin feels warm and soft, even though he’s mostly muscle and Zach still wants more. He’s on fire with it, gasping and greedy, swallowing every whimper that Willy makes with his mouth.

When Willy’s noises get louder and his hips lose their rhythm, Zach knows he’s close. He shoves his hand down Willy’s pants and groans when he realizes how slick and hot Willy is for him.

“Shit,” Willy’s muffled curse floats between them. “Zach. Shit, yeah. Yeah fuck, that’s it, oh God, holy shit, please.”

Zach doesn’t know what Willy needs but he wants to give it to him so fucking badly. He strokes him and kisses every exposed bit of skin he can find until Willy’s shuddering against him and his hand is wet, covered in Willy.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, aching hard and willing himself not to come untouched.

His hips push upwards helplessly and Willy stirs against him.

“Yeah,” he hears Willy say, his voice wrecked and it goes straight to Zach’s dick. “Yeah, just let me.” Willy wriggles down Zach’s body and he’s pulling Zach’s sweats down and oh fuck, he’s licking his lips as he eyes Zach tenting in his boxers, the cotton material so damp that Zach’s a little embarrassed.

“Hi,” Willy breathes and Zach can’t help it, he half laughs, half groans and throws his arm over his eyes because there’s no way he can watch his dick in Willy’s mouth without coming too early to enjoy the sensation.

And it’s a good decision, Zach thinks hazily because Willy’s mouth is fucking magic.

He holds out as long as he can and tangles his fingers in Willy’s sex-messed hair, silently encouraging him as he blows Zach. It’s wet, so fucking wet, and it’s sloppy, of course. It’s fucking amazing.

Zach tugs on Willy’s hair when he’s about to come and Willy kisses him through it, tasting like Zach and his hand on Zach’s dick, stroking him just right until he’s soft again.

Willy is a cuddler, which Zach doesn’t mind, not when he gets to be the big spoon, one hand flat on Willy’s belly, his soft dick nestled against Willy’s ass. Not when he can kiss Willy’s neck and stroke his hands up and down Willy’s body, vaguely wondering if he could go again. Not when Willy makes content little noises as Zach grinds against him, half-hard and less desperate this time, but just as greedy.

“Okay,” Willy sighs, one hand on Zach’s hip as he moves against Willy, lips on Willy’s neck and wondering whether he could get away with leaving a hickey there. He’s feeling weirdly possessive. “So like, your wish is gonna make sure we’re set for life financially and my wish is gonna make sure that we’re so fucking happy, so we’re like, solid.”

And Zach gets it then, his hand still on Willy’s hip, his lips still on Willy’s neck, his teeth teasing at Willy’s skin. Fuck, he gets it and yeah. “Okay,” he murmurs, squeezing his hand and grinning when Willy lets out a little yelp.

Willy’s hickey is obnoxiously large and a deep shade of purple when they show up for morning skate, a little dishevelled from making out in Willy’s car in the parking lot.

Auston notices first.

And Zach can’t stop laughing at the look on his face.


End file.
